


Yippy-ki-yay, Motherfucker: A Sterek Thanksgiving Story

by aussiebee



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Cute, Die Hard References, Fluff, Gen, Kid Fic, Kinda, Thanksgiving
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-19
Updated: 2018-11-19
Packaged: 2019-08-25 23:14:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 542
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16670224
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aussiebee/pseuds/aussiebee
Summary: I have no clue about anything to do with Thanksgiving… I am Australian. But hey! Sterek-as-kids ficlet, ft Claudia Stilinski, poorly-drawn fridge art and a sassy, precocious Stiles.





	Yippy-ki-yay, Motherfucker: A Sterek Thanksgiving Story

Creeping along as stealthily as he knew how, gun clutched tight in his hands the way he had been taught and the pumpkin-spice scent of the bakery’s wares filling his nose, Stiles took a deep breath before leaping around the end of the aisle, pointing his gun at the perp.

“Freeze, scumbag,” he growled, in his best imitation of his dad.

Said perp, ten or twelve years old and perusing the seasonal cereal selection of the supermarket, turned and lifted one impressively criminal-like eyebrow at Stiles. “Or what?”

“Stiles, baby,” Mommy said as she stepped around the aisle, fond exasperation in her voice. “What have I told you about calling people ‘scumbag’?”

Sighing and dropping his gun as he let his defensive posture relax, Stiles turned and looked up at her. “That word is only for Daddy and John McClane.”

Mommy laughed, her eyes glowing from the inside in that way that made Stiles’ chest go all wibbly. “That’s right. Now, what do you say to this  _ innocent _ young man here who was minding his own business before you came blazing in?”

“I’m sorry,” Stiles said immediately, looking back at the clearly-criminal boy. “And I’ll be keeping an eye on you.”

Mommy laughed again, reaching out for Stiles’ hand to draw him close and confiscate his Nerf gun to put in her bag. “Sorry about Joe Law, here, Derek,” she told the boy. “He’s going through a law enforcement phase.”

Derek, if that even  _ was _ his real name (and Stiles suspected  _ not) _ , smiled up at Mommy, all innocent-like. “That’s okay, Mrs Stilinski. I guess I’m just glad we have someone like Detective McClane here to keep the citizens of Beacon Hills safe.” He flicked a glance at Stiles before smiling at Mommy again. “See you in class tomorrow, I guess.”

“Sure will,” Mommy replied. “Bye, Derek. Stiles?”

“Bye, scumbag,” Stiles piped up happily, making Derek grin widely.

“Stiles!” Mommy scolded.

“He called me John McClane!” Stiles protested. “Ergo, I can use that word now!”

“Good lord,” Mommy said, her mouth twisting the way it did when she was trying to be stern. “Come here, you.” She lifted him into the seat of the cart. “Where did you learn the word ‘ergo’?”

Stiles watched as she ran her hand over Derek’s hair, making him blush a little as they passed him, but he was forgotten momentarily as Stiles began to explain that it was a word in another language called Latin, but he didn’t know what, exactly, it had to do with the fuelling planet of the same name in his Star Wars book.

  
  


A week later, right before the Thanksgiving break, Mommy brought home a picture that Stiles’ perp had drawn in class. On it was a coloured drawing of Stiles, complete with brown hair and eyes, dirty and bloody tank top and an oversized gun.  _ I AM THANKFUL FOR _ was printed on the bottom of the page, followed in neat pencil lettering by  _ John McClane. _ Stiles loved it, and awarded Derek a full pardon, especially when Mommy told him that the speech bubble above Stiles-as-McClane said  _ yippy-ki-yay _ , and another word that had gotten him a thorough scolding as Mommy had tried not to laugh in front of her seventh grade class.


End file.
